Chapter 214: The Untouchable Dream
William had another dream.
In the dream, the sunlight was warm.
He stood at the entrance of the company building, sunlight falling on him, warm and comforting. Not far away, Isabella was walking toward him, carrying a thermos.
She walked slowly, seeming to be injured, but he could not see clearly.
He only saw the smile on her face—cautious, yet carrying a trace of hope.
"I made you oatmeal porridge. It's good for your stomach."
"Isabella!" William rushed forward and pulled her into his arms.
Isabella was at a loss, frozen, her hands hanging at her sides, not knowing where to put them.
William looked at her.
Looked at her pale face, at her pressed lips, at that glimmer of light in her eyes.
He suddenly smiled and took the thermos from her hands.
"How did you know I wanted this?"
She paused, then her eyes softened.
"You said before that when your stomach feels bad, oatmeal porridge is the most comforting."
He opened the lid. Steam rose, and the aroma drifted into his nose.
He picked up the spoon and took a sip.
Warm, soft—she had cooked it perfectly.
"Does it taste good?" She tilted her head to look at him, her eyes full of anticipation.
He nodded.
"It's good."
Her smile blossomed instantly, like a flower in the sunlight.
He reached out and pulled her into his arms.
She stiffened for a moment, then slowly relaxed, burying her face in his chest.
The feeling of Isabella's hair was so real.
As if she were still alive.
"Don't make so much next time," he heard himself say. "If you make too much, I can't finish it by myself."
She looked up at him.
"Then I'll eat with you."
He smiled.
"Of course. From now on, you have to be with me for everything, not just meals."
"Everything together."
The sunlight shone on them, warm and gentle.
He thought, let it be like this.
Just keep holding her like this.
Until his dying day.
William heard a voice inside him saying:
"She's already dead."
William did not believe it. He argued with the voice in his heart, "You're lying. Isabella is alive and well. She's right here in my arms."
The voice said again, "If you don't believe me, look down. Look at her face."
William loosened his embrace and looked at Isabella's face.
Those web-like mottling suddenly began crawling up from her chest.
Crawling over her neck, crawling onto her face.
But Isabella was still looking at him and smiling.
Suddenly, the sunlight disappeared.
A strong wind rose, and Isabella, in his arms, turned into a pile of dust, blown away piece by piece by the wind.
"Isabella..."
William chased after the dust floating in the wind.
"Don't go, don't leave me."
Two figures appeared ahead.
No, two people.
He saw another version of himself, and another Isabella.
That William looked so disgusting.
He saw Isabella walk over with the thermos, her voice soft, "I made you oatmeal porridge. It's good for your stomach."
That William reached out and snatched the thermos from her hands, then flung it toward the trash can.
A stray dog, smelling the food, ran over and lowered its head to eat the oatmeal porridge on the ground.
That William stared at the dog, a mocking smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Isabella, the things you make are only fit for feeding dogs."
William could not watch anymore. He glanced at his reflection in the glass.
He found that his face kept changing—sometimes it was Donny, sometimes Ambrose, and sometimes it became Thomas.
He suddenly found courage and rushed forward to tackle that William.
But he missed.
William, whom he hated, also turned into a pile of ashes, blown away by the wind.
He saw Isabella quietly looking at the oatmeal porridge on the ground, not angry at all.
There was no anger on her face. Instead, she slowly crouched down and picked up the broken porcelain pieces. Her fingertips were cut, blood seeping out, but she did not seem to feel the pain.
The surrounding gossip suddenly grew louder, closing in on Isabella like a tide.
The receptionists murmured to each other, their eyes full of contempt, their harsh words growing louder and louder.
"This is the woman who killed her own sister and shamelessly married Mr. Spencer. She's so low-class, dressed so poorly. I thought she was some beggar when I first saw her."
"Shut up, all of you shut up! She's not what you're saying." William tried to drive away the onlookers.
But the onlookers also turned into ashes and disappeared.
He was exhausted and drenched in sweat, crouching beside Isabella.
He reached out, wanting to pull her up.
"Isabella, let's go."
"Leave this place, leave these people who hurt you."
But Isabella's body was scattered again.
William knelt on the ground, shouting loudly.
"No..."
"No, you can't."
"Isabella..."
"Isabella, come back. I'm Thomas. Look at me. I'll protect you."
"I'll never hurt you. I won't make you suffer as William did."
William's head suddenly started hurting uncontrollably.
He searched everywhere like a madman.
Finally, he saw the person he was looking for on the rooftop.
"Don't jump, don't."
Isabella just turned to look at him.
"Mr. Spencer, you're here."
William's head hurt even more.
"No, I'm not some Mr. Spencer. I'm not William."
"I can be anyone. I don't want to be Mr. Spencer."
He knelt down, pressing his forehead to the floor.
"Isabella, I know I was wrong..."
"William knows he was wrong..."
"I'm begging you, please come back."
"Mr. Spencer, I'm going home now."
William woke from the dream. His eyes were wet, and so were his cheeks.
He turned and grabbed Isabella's hand.
The sharp scent of medicine filled his nose, making him cough.
He did not care. He would not let go again.
William placed her hand on his own chest.
Then he shifted his body closer to her side, drawing even closer.
Their bodies are touching.
William stared at the ceiling, no longer sleepy.
That hand was cold, but he still did not let go.
Until a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.
"William, I got up especially early today and made you breakfast."
"I promise, this time it's just the way you like it."
William's relaxed expression furrowed. He hated being disturbed.
Fortunately, Dylan's voice came from outside the door.
"Ms. Miller, Mr. Spencer doesn't like to be disturbed in the morning."
Dylan's voice was cold, but it sounded warm to William's ears.
"But I made this breakfast specially for William."
Dylan's voice remained cold. "That still doesn't work. This isn't a place you should come."
After Juniper was driven away, Dylan began knocking on the door again.
"Mr. Spencer, I've already followed your instructions and locked Lester in a dog cage and cut the tendons in his hands and feet."
William opened the door, his tone calm.
"Good. Now he won't be able to escape again."
"Also, don't let him die."
Dylan nodded. "I received word that Ambrose has returned to the nation."
William's eyes darkened.
"Didn't he lose his memory?"